


Drabble requests

by pm_me_olimar



Category: Pikmin (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pm_me_olimar/pseuds/pm_me_olimar
Summary: Short drabbles based off requests. Usually not proof read that much. Feel free to make a request, will be updating if any more are written. First time posting, be easy lol
Relationships: Louie/Olimar (Pikmin)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Drabble requests

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Louie struggling to find a gift to give Olimar," louimar

He’s a simple man. There is something so… simple about Olimar. He’s kind… he’s passionate about his work… he’s ever patient… and he always has that small, warm smile. He’s simple. Predictable, in a way. Yet…

Louie stares blankly at the suit through the window of the department store, standing with cold feet on a brisk August evening, the occasional passersby on the sidewalk paying him no mind. 

Why does shopping for such a simple man so difficult? Louie sighs heavily, glancing down at the leaves and debris scattered in front of the department store’s entryway, bathed in the ambient glow of long running retail lights. He shifts from foot to foot, huddling in his coat, sniffling from his cold ears since he forgot to bring any ear muffs out.

A gift. It’s just a gift. It’s… something simple. Olimar is understanding, and he’s oddly humble. He doesn’t need anything big. Or pricey. Just… something. Anything at all to prove he’s on his mind. Louie throws his gaze upwards at the amber sky, silently cursing at the clouds. Olimar is _constantly_ on his mind. Louie knows this better than anyone else, but how is he supposed to prove it? Words aren’t an option, both of them are painfully aware of Louie’s inability to express his emotions. Actions are… sort of an option. He tries his best to do kind things for him back. But cooking for someone becomes normal and unexciting pretty quickly. Gifts are the best option here. He needs to get him something. Necessitated not from any calendar events, but from a sudden swelling of fear in his heart that he may somehow distance Olimar from himself with how bad he is with expressing love. 

Yes, he needs to get something. But what?

Louie lulls for a few moments longer before he turns away from the massive window, aimless wandering down the street and glancing in random stores. The sounds of murmuring dinner conversations from restaurants, and random discussions of passerbyers, the occasional rumble of a car, none of it reaches Louie with how far he is in his own head. How does this usually work, he wonders? He is unable to quell the renewed realization that he wonders how most social etiquette works. It’s something he’s wondered for such a long time, why exactly is he so different from everyone else? It’s like there’s some book of rules and sensibilities that everyone else had read that he’s not privy to. When it comes to understanding people and people habits, everything is doubly hard. Louie idly kicks a pebble down into the gutter on the street, watching the cracks in concrete pass by underneath his feet. Gift giving… He should get something Olimar likes. What does Olimar like? A lot of things. He writes and reads a lot. He’s always writing in those journals of his… A new journal, maybe? The thought is halted when Louie remembers Olimar rambling on about paper quality, and his preferred PSI. He has no idea what that is. He wouldn’t know what type of journal to get him. Louie’s skin crawls when he imagines Olimar unboxing a subpar journal and having to fake a positive reaction. No, not that… Olimar enjoys plants. He has many in the apartment they share. He even had Louie name one. He named it Ferny. 

“....” Louie has a moment of humbleness as he appreciates how much more creative Olimar is than him. What about some sort of… plant water thing? Watering can? Olimar already has one… He doesn’t know how he’d get something that’s better than what they already have. _Why does this have to be so hard?_ He wonders, frustration slowly building up. The familiar sensation of prickling at his skin builds up, and he scratches his cheek, disliking when he gets frustrated. It’s such a helpless feeling. 

A familiar, dark hole yawns in the back of his mind, and he cannot help but return to wondering why exactly he has Olimar. Louie provides so… little. He’s not a smart man. Not creative the way Olimar is, not particularly hard working. He can’t connect with people or charm them the way Olimar can. He has nasty thoughts, and he’s done nasty things. Why would Olimar settle for someone who can’t even pick out a stupid gift to get him? 

Louie blinks. There’s a door in front of him. He glances around, realizing he’s somehow absentmindedly ambled back to their apartment. _Shit, I don’t have anything picked out yet-_ He fumbles to put his keys away, when the door pulls open anyways.  
  
“Oh!” Olimar’s face is only a foot away from his own on the other side, blinking as his expression melts into pleasant surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be home early. Your walks tend to last longer, don’t they?”  
  
“... Uh…” Louie’s caught off guard, in a way only Olimar’s presence can achieve, staring at him with wide eyes. “Y… Yeah. Uh…” Olimar tilts his head, a gentle look of confusion in his eyes. “Is something the matter?”  
“... N-No. Just… home early.” Olimar looks into his eyes a moment longer before smiling and glancing down to pat down his jacket. “I see. I was going to head out to get something before you came back, but I suppose that’s null now.”

“What were you…?” Louie feels stiff, unable to move from where he’s standing, intimidated by a man who has to look up to meet his eyes. 

Olimar smiles, chuckling softly. “Call me silly, but some donuts. Not exactly the healthiest snack after a walk, but I remember you mentioning having a hankering for something sugary in the morning. Little late, but…” He shrugs, then looks back up at his friend. “Would you like to come with me if you’re back already?”

Louie stares at him, that prickling sensation crawling up his neck. “...” His face contorts slightly and his brows furrow, gaze slowly trailing away into the evening sky, swallowing thickly.

“Louie? … Louie.” He feels two hands against his forearms, sliding down until Olimar’s holding his own hands. “... What’s wrong?” Such a simple man. Always so warm…

“... I love you.” He mumbles into the chilly air, gaze persistently averted, only able to see the vague shift of Olimar’s expression. A few moments pass, and Olimar squeezes his hands. “I love you too, Louie.” He remains silent, simply holding him, a quiet reassurance in his presence. He knows Louie. He knows he needs to take his time.

“... I wanted… to get you a gift.” Louie finally says after a few moments of standing, still looking away, throat dry. “Oh… That’s a lovely thought. But, why?” Olimar probes gently.

“... Um…” Louie shrugs, sighing as his shoulders fall back down. “You know…”

He sees Olimar smiling in the corner of his vision. There is something miraculous about time; Olimar has been with him for long enough that he’s had ample opportunity to study him. He understands so much better now what he means when he tries to express himself. “... Louie, I know you love me.” He says, letting go and sliding his hands up to his shoulders. “You don’t need to get me anything to prove that. You’re a present enough to me.” With that, he leans forward and presses his lips gently against his cheek, a small peck before leaning back. Louie blinks, the ghosting sensation remaining as he finally looks back to him, pulled into the warmth of his expression. They look into each other's eyes, the prickling dying away into a comfortable warmth rising up his chest, many things unable to be put into words being said silently.

“... I get what Rusty means when he says you’re sappy.” Louie blurts out suddenly, and Olimar’s expression drops, huffing. “There’s no need to insult me! Goodness…” He chuckles, and Louie smiles with him, a rare phenomenon made frequent by his boyfriend. 

“So how do you feel about those donuts?”  
“Do they have crullers?”  
“Ah… probably. Only one way to find out, though.” Olimar holds a hand out, and Louie takes it, closing the door behind them as they walk out into the evening, on each other’s minds. 


End file.
